


salt the earth

by someawkwardprose



Series: from fertile soil [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Disabled Character, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Ianto Jones Lives, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Series 03: Children of Earth (Torchwood), Series 03 Fix-It: Children of Earth (Torchwood)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someawkwardprose/pseuds/someawkwardprose
Summary: Ianto Jones survives. This is what comes after.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones & Anwen Williams, Jack Harkness & Ianto Jones & Anwen Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: from fertile soil [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116740
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90





	salt the earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violetmessages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetmessages/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY VIOLET
> 
> I couldn't do the original prompt(s) because I didn't have time, and I couldn't add enough Gwen because she fought me tooth and claw, and all in all focuses on the boys a bit too much. I hope you like it all the same. thank you for existing, babe, and congratulations of surviving so many years of the universe attempting to take you out. 
> 
> shout out to the beautiful [nik](https://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/), who is the best beta in the world. what would we all do without you.
> 
> there's maybe the _tiniest_ touch of internalised ableism - ianto is just very frustrated with how his recovery is going, and jack is just a touch overprotective.

Jack’s arm was heavy around his shoulders, and the noise was getting to be too much. Faking enthusiasm had never been one of Ianto’s talents, and any acting skills he’d possessed were lost over an hour ago. 

Ianto tired easily, now. 

He struggled to breathe when he overexerted himself. He struggled to breathe when he got too excited, or upset, or angry. He couldn’t get out of bed in the morning without having to rest as soon as he got downstairs, and everything he did with Jack in the past - well, that was out the window right now. 

Jack said it would get better. He’d get better.

But for now, he was losing four years worth of muscle, and all of the confidence he’d developed in that time was going with it. 

“I need to lie down,” he murmured to Jack, hand curling around the inhaler in his pocket. Jack made to stand, but Ianto shook his head. “No, I can manage.” 

“You sure?” Jack’s eyes held nothing but concern, but it felt a little pitying anyway.

“Yeah,” he said, and hoped Jack wouldn't hear how wheezy his voice was. He hadn’t needed the nebulizer in over a month, damnit. “Space.”

Jack frowned but let Ianto go anyway, giving his hand a squeeze as he turned back to Ellen. They have a rule now, after the yelling match that led to an asthma attack that had put Ianto straight back in hospital. He could handle Jack and Gwen’s and even Rhys’ hovering, but only in short doses. Ianto might never get back to full health, but he would get his independence back, so help him God. 

He waved a hand to Gwen across the room, who was still distracted by Caroline-call-me-Carrie and couldn’t pull away. She gave him a concerned look anyway, so he made sure to brush past her on his way to the staircase. 

“Just tired,” he murmured in her ear as he passed, and he felt her hand ghost over his back as he moved away. Gwen, thankfully, understood that, sometimes, Ianto would rather lick his wounds in peace. 

“Oh, Ianto -” Gareth-call-me-Gary tried to catch his attention. 

Ianto gave him a tight smile. “Sorry,” he said unapologetically, brushing past him. “Got to go.” 

He had to use his inhaler twice to get up the stairs, and at the top, he cursed Jack, who’d been insistent on the house with more space. Of course, it would come in useful when Anwen was a little older - or if Gwen and Rhys have another (Christ, he hoped not) - but on nights like this, when Ianto felt as bad as he did when he first left the hospital, it became another obstacle between him and his bed. Old at twenty-seven and ready for bed at nine o’clock because their new neighbours had insisted on a housewarming party. 

At least it was quieter up here.

It's just the mood he was in tonight, he knew. Hours of forced socialisation with the three families nearest to their new home wasn’t what Jack wanted either, but Gwen and Rhys deserved the chance to be normal, and normal meant entertaining guests. According to Rhys, at least; Ianto wouldn’t know.

He gave it half an hour before Jack came up with some sort of excuse to check on him and not go back down. Jack might have been a social creature, but he preferred his nights to be quiet, spent with family alone. Ianto never doubted that, now.

Anwen’s door was, as usual, open just a crack; he glanced in on her as he passed by. Still out for the count. 

Finally, he reached their bedroom, thankfully cool and quiet, with the view Ianto had fallen in love with from pictures when he’d been in his hospital bed and all the knickknacks they’d acquired that made it feel like their home. The wall of bookcases and the window seat he’d spent his first few weeks home recovering in. Pictures of Jack, of them both, of Gwen and Rhys and Anwen, and freshly reprinted copies of Tosh and Owen. A single photograph of Alice and Steven on Jack’s bedside table. 

He liked their bedroom, liked the way it was _theirs_ , not just Ianto’s bedroom that Jack stayed in or Jack’s bunker which Ianto slept in occasionally. Liked the way he would invariably wake up with one of Jack’s limbs slung over him, liked that when he woke up from nightmares of drowning on dry land, Jack would be there, liked that he always knew Gwen and Rhys were only a few rooms away, and he could check on them. Liked that his wardrobe was mixed with Jack’s, that they share the same toothpaste in their ensuite, that Jack switched to his shampoo and conditioner. He liked the domesticity of it all, and he was slowly coming to realise that, unlike everything he’d had before, he wasn’t going to lose this.

Ianto kicked his jeans off and debated struggling with his sweater for a minute, before deciding it could wait until Jack came to bed. Now that he was away from the crowd, he wished he had just asked Jack to come with him. 

Too late now. He’d just have to wait until Jack found an excuse. 

He was just about to settle into bed when he heard a whine from the baby monitor - one in each of their bedrooms and in the kitchen and the living room, because there were three overprotective parents in the house, Jack’s title of Uncle aside - and he glanced at it to see Anwen was awake and holding the bars of her crib. He frowned. She was a good baby, a quiet one, already sleeping through the night, and Ianto got a little worried when she deviated from her routine. Perhaps the other three weren’t the only overprotective ones, but Ianto was perfectly happy to leave them to the actual parenting. 

But downstairs was fairly loud, and he was up here already. He took another puff of his inhaler and went to see what was wrong. 

“You are meant to be sleeping, miss,” he murmured as he stepped into her bedroom, and Anwen gurgled. “What’s the matter with you, then?” 

Anwen made another whining noise, making grabby hands at him. In the dim light from the hall streaming into the room, her cheeks looked a little more than rosy, and he made a face. Teething. “Poor Miss Anwen, are your teeth coming in?” 

He reached down to pick her up, ignoring the voice that told him it should be easier than it was. “You’re getting too big for me, monster,” he said, settling her on his side. “Let me see your teeth.” 

She didn’t want to let him, whimpering and turning her face away, but eventually, he got a finger into her mouth. Just as he expected, he could feel the little nubs in her gums. He grimaced and wiped the saliva residue on her onesie. “Right then. I know we have some teething rings in the freezer, but we don’t want to go back down there, do we? I think your mum’s got some gel for that in the bathroom, so how about we take a look?” 

Gwen always found it hilarious that he spoke to Anwen like she was an adult; he never saw the problem with it. Babies needed to be talked to regularly, and at least at this age she couldn’t backtalk. He hadn’t been around David and Mica when they were this young, but his mum had always said that baby-talk was the worst possible thing you could have tried with him. He was hoping to train Anwen into good habits early, and narrating his actions was no skin off his nose.

His arms started to ache by the time he reached the main bathroom, and he had to deposit his load on the counter for a moment and lean there, breathing deeply. Thankfully, Anwen seemed content to sit quietly, suckling on her fingers. Her cheeks were _really_ red. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” He brushed a finger down her face. “That must hurt.” 

Thankfully, the little medicated tube was easy to locate, and she let him apply it without much fuss, although she did try to roll off the counter, which led to one panicked moment for Ianto. He already had shitty lungs; he didn’t need his niece to give him heart problems. 

“Now, Miss Anwen, how do you feel about staying with me tonight?” He double-checked she didn’t need a nappy change and hefted her up again. He didn’t want to risk taking her to her own room and not being able to get back to his own. She gave him a rather pointed yawn, he thought, her eyes already drooping shut, even as she pawed at her face. 

Five minutes later, he was in his bed, Anwen tucked beside him. Jack and Rhys both liked to sleep with her on their chests, but he couldn’t do that propped up as he was. His lungs wouldn’t thank him for crushing them anyway. She seemed perfectly happy where she was, with the spare dummy Jack kept on his bedside table in her mouth, fingers curled around the stuffed pterodactyl Ianto had gotten her that was _not_ named Myfanwy, thank you very much. 

He glanced at the book on his nightstand but decided it would be too much effort. Anwen had the right idea anyway, so he closed his eyes and let her soft snores follow him into his dreams.

* * *

It took far too long for Jack to pull away from Ellen and her husband, who were _very supportive of the gays, thank you very much,_ and he scanned the room. Rhys was in his element, laughing with the other two couples, but Gwen caught his eye and unwound herself from the conversation to come to his side. 

“I saw Ianto go upstairs earlier, is he okay?”

“He wanted some space,” Jack told her, pursing his lips. She gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“It’s been a busy night,” she said, looping her arm through his. “He did well.” 

“I know, I know; it’s just-” 

“He’s been out of your sight for more than ten minutes, and you’re still dealing with separation anxiety,” Gwen told him, her face going serious. 

He rolled his eyes. “I am not -” 

“You can’t keep smothering him, Jack,” she said gently but firmly. 

“I’m not,” Jack said, softly. “I just - what if he needs his nebulizer? What if -” 

“Jack.” 

He took a deep breath. “I know, okay. It’s just…” 

“I know.” Of course she did. It was Gwen who had waited for hours to be told whether Ianto would survive or not, Gwen who had held Jack’s hand as the doctors shared an increasingly grave set of diagnoses. It was Gwen who sat by Ianto’s bedside every day he was in hospital, who let Ianto scream and rage on his worst days, who listened to him cry after every physiotherapy session. Gwen who refused to let go, even when Jack had almost given up, and shouted at the doctors to save her best friend.

Sometimes, on bad nights, when Ianto had to be hooked onto an oxygen tank or would go in one of his moods and kick Jack out, it was Gwen who sat with him in the kitchen and let him pour out his fears.

But she hadn’t held Ianto as he began to choke on air. She hadn’t listened to what Ianto had believed to be his last words. She hadn’t walked him into danger and left him broken in more ways than one. 

“Yeah. But…” 

“Go on. I’ll give your excuses. I’m about done in anyway, and I want my house back to myself,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Check on Anwen when-” 

“When do I not?” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Favourite uncle, I’ll win it.” 

“It’s not a competition.” Gwen rolled her eyes and slapped him on the arse when she stepped away. 

“If it is, I’m winning!” Jack called over his shoulder, and made his way upstairs. 

He frowned when he saw Anwen’s door was wide open, with no baby in sight, but it quickly turned to a grin when he reached his own bedroom. 

Sometimes, the enormity of the gift he’d been given - this millionth chance at happiness - hit him like a tidal wave, crashing into him with all the force of tsunami. He knew he didn’t deserve Ianto, didn’t deserve any of this, really, but all the affection he felt for this man, this boy who captured his heart and wouldn't let him go, he thought it would kill him. Times like this, when he could see his little patchwork family together, he knew it was worth every painful second. He would outlive them: Gwen, his best friend, the only person who understood him perfectly; Rhys, the man who had opened up his home and life to Jack, even after everything Jack had brought down on him; Ianto, who had broken through the walls in Jack’s heart and made his home there. Even little Anwen, the little girl who might as well have been his own. He would outlive them, and it would _hurt._

But nights like this, seeing Ianto with one arm cradled around Anwen, both fast asleep...it made it worth it. 

He slipped his phone out of his pocket, and snapped a picture, saving it and sending it on to Gwen. 

She sent a string of _ <3 _back. 

Carefully, he lifted Anwen up, intent on taking her back to her crib, but Ianto’s hand moved, resting protectively over her as he blinked blearily at him. “Nn, Jack?” 

“Go back to sleep,” Jack murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of Ianto’s mouth. 

“‘Nwen,” he muttered back. “Teeth.” 

Jack grimaced. He hadn’t been looking forward to the teething stage. Melissa had been - well, not a nightmare, because he loved her very much - but certainly not the sweetest of babies. 

“She seems alright now; I’ll put her back to bed,” Jack replied. 

Ianto hummed an agreement, already drifting off again, and Jack smiled, feeling his heart flutter, hummingbird-quick. 

She didn’t wake up once, settling into her crib easily, and he gave her a quick peck on the forehead before checking the baby monitor and carefully closing the door just enough to block most of the light and crept back into his own room. Ianto was out cold again, and Jack smiled, stripping down to his boxers before sliding in beside him. 

He slipped an arm over Ianto’s waist and brushed his lips over the skin of Ianto’s shoulder. “Love you,” he whispered, his new nightly ritual. 

Ianto shifted, more awake that Jack had thought, pressing back into Jack. “You too,” he mumbled. 

Jack smiled into the darkness. He wouldn’t give this up for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!


End file.
